


Senseless

by hawkayy



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: I'm Going To Hell For This, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkayy/pseuds/hawkayy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A beat, and Rafael goes from shock to a mild form of anger. He is about to call Nick out on crossing the line between it being okay to take the stress of the job out on his partner and, well, it not, when an angry pair of lips crash against his own, and he is momentarily taken aback by Nick shoving his tongue deep inside of him, hungrily sucking against the wetness of inside his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Senseless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quagsirechannel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quagsirechannel/gifts).



> nsfw was the first thing on your request list, and i think i took that slightly too liberally and wrote the dictionary definition of pwp. whoops.
> 
> but anyway, thank you for signing up for this swap, and i hope you enjoy the fic!

The jiggle of keys in the slot sounds, and Rafael looks up from the couch just in time to hear the lock click open and the front door push ajar, a tired Nick stepping through the doorframe.

“You're home late,” Rafael remarks, rolling over lazily from his spot on the cushion.

“You're home early.” The way the keys clatter hardly against the counter suggests the mood Nick is in. It's often this way after a difficult case.

“Just finished up an appeal that was approved.” Rafael sits up, reaching for the remote to turn the volume of the baseball game down. He's not one to be particularly engaged in a game of sports, but Nick is, and Rafael had put on the game for his boyfriend's sake.

Nick nods, once, and doesn't say a word. He pulls open the fridge door and draws a bottle of Heineken out from the side compartment. He rips the magnet bottle opener from the fridge door and pops the cap off, taking a long swig of the golden liquid.

“Long day at work?” Rafael asks, anticipating the answer.

“Hmm,” Nick says in affirmative. He makes his way to the couch, settling in and leaning back in the seat. He doesn't put his arm around Rafael like he usually does.

“Bad case?” Rafael probes further, recognizing the mood and trying to draw his boyfriend out of it.

“Bastard raped two girls in an alley. Case is probably gonna go to you soon.”

Nick leans forward to set his bottle down on the coffee table, and Rafael notices the red scrapes on the knuckles of Nick's right hand, angry, flushing scarlet surrounding bits of dark bruising.

“They made you do the good cop, bad cop routine on said bastard?”

“They didn't _make_ me do anything,” Nick says, agitation lacing his voice. “He tried to jump Benson in the interrogation room.”

“I’m sure Liv could have taken care of herself.”

“Well, someone had to take care of _him_.”

“Of course. And that definitely had to be you, because you haven’t had enough suspensions racked on your report already, haven’t assaulted an alleged child molester outside of a school, haven’t already had multiple complaints filed against you for police brutali- ”

“Shut up,” Nick snaps, and it’s effective - Rafael does.

A beat, and Rafael goes from shock to a mild form of anger, and he is about to call Nick out on crossing the line between it being okay to take the stress of the job out on his partner and, well, it _not_ , when an angry pair of lips crash against his own, and he is momentarily taken aback by Nick shoving his tongue deep inside of him, hungrily sucking against the wetness of inside his lips.

Rafael obeys when he registers the kiss, leaning in to it and tilting his head backwards when Nick sets a palm against the back of his hair. Nick He feels a tight tug at the hairs down his neck, and rough fingertips sliding down, pressing from the base of his neck to the bumps of his spine.

“Nick,” Rafael breathes as Nick lowers his lips down the unshaven stubble of his chin. “Nick - not here. Bedroom.”

A hard shove - then Rafael is stumbling past the couch, down the hall. Nick's hands catch him just before he loses his balance, and they lead him right into the bedroom, fumbling fingers undoing his full Windsor, yanking the embroidered silk from underneath his collar. The buttons come next, and Rafael would tell Nick to _calm down_ before Nick downright rips them off his laundered shirt if he isn’t buried in Nick’s scent; his nose and cheek pressed to the heat of Nick’s neck.

He doesn’t know how his vest comes off but it does, along with the undershirt previously mount to his body by the sweat beads that formed some time between sitting on the couch waiting for Nick to come home and having his belt bring pried off by the hungry hands of his lover. He sits on the edge of the mattress, conscious about being almost fully naked as Nick tears his own clothes off himself, but Rafael only just begins to feel the shiver of goosebumps up his spine when Nick’s body is back against his, and Nick’s calloused fingers squeeze Rafael’s bare ass to turn him around.

Rafael doesn’t get the chance to fully appreciate Nick’s front before he is pressed down by a rough hand on his back, and he feels the soft fabric of the duvet brush against his chest, wrapping itself around him, burying his elbow when he tries to prop up a hand to support himself up.

He feels the heat radiate from Nick’s palm against the base of his spine; he knows the other hand is on Nick’s own cock, and he almost feels a twitch in his own crotch when he pictures Nick – desperate fingers wrapped around a bulging bulk, clumsily nursing the beginnings of an erection. Rafael is about to offer a hand, or a mouth, but Nick’s fingertips press deeper into his back as the movements of Nick’s other hand quicken, and Rafael knows he’s in for a long, deep fuck.

“Lube.” He everything but gasps when Nick’s hand slides down from his lower back to the point just low of his tailbone, right above his hole. There is a distant sound of rummaging, then the slamming shut of a drawer, and there are seconds of quiet when Rafael wonders if Nick found the tube or if he is searching in another compartment of another piece of furniture, but the coldness of an oiled finger jammed up his ass gives him the answer to that.

“No – no condom?” Rafael says when he comes back to his senses.

The finger in him stops abruptly. Rafael is suddenly all too aware of the foreign object stuck up him, and he muscles clamp weirdly around it.

“Do you want a condom?” Nick’s voice is low, and his tone is so off that Rafael regrets asking in the first place. Rafael bites down on his lower lip, and shakes his head. It is obviously the response Nick is looking for, because the finger starts jabbing again, _in out, in out_ , even faster than it was before.

Nick moves quickly. He moves at different paces during every fuck – long, drawled out nights after days worthy of celebration, quick, short, but intimate touches in the morning, ten-minute blowjobs in the Crib, and fast, passionate ones after any occasion you can think of. And then there are these. Rafael has come to known the pattern of Nick’s moods like the back of his own hand, and he knows what sex is like when Nick is excited, down, or content – and he knows what sex is like after a day like Nick’s had today. There is leftover, pent anger at the perp and downright bitterness at the world and the things Nick sees, and if there is any way Nick knows how to express that, it’s through fucking Rafael like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

A second finger joins the first, and a third joins after that, Nick’s other hand moving to help spread Rafael out. There is a dry, burning sensation on his ass cheek that contrasts the cold wet lube inside of his hole, and Rafael breathes in sync with the pushing of the fingers – hushed, shallow.

The fingers pull out without a warning, and Rafael takes a second to grasp onto the last bit of emptiness as he hears more lube being forced out of its bottle. Then there is a silence, of _a beat, then two, then_ –

Rafael’s breath hitches as he feels the tip of Nick’s hard cock probing around the rim of his hole, the edge of a finger guiding it. Rafael tightens, and he knows it, and Nick knows it as well. A palm wet and messy with lube smacks Rafael tightly across the lower back, and Rafael gives a soft whimper as he pumps backwards. Nick seizes the chance, and Rafael tries to hold in his breath as he feels the erection slide into him, filling him up.

Nick doesn’t wait before he starts thrusting, and Rafael feels him get fuller and fuller inside of him, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Rafael feels his ass burn with the friction, and Nick is pushing so hard and so fast Rafael thinks he’s going to slide right off the bed with Nick’s dick still in him.

“Nick, Nick,” Rafael pants breathlessly as he grapples at the sheets around him, trying to hang on to reposition himself, but the swollen tip of Nick’s cock prods at his prostate, and it feels _so fucking good_ that Rafael allows himself a small, high-pitched moan as he closes his eyes, relishing the surge of adrenaline through him, his head tilted and his mouth agape in pleasure. He knows Nick is seeing this, and he knows how much Nick loves to watch his face despite him being fucked faced down, and he feels Nick’s own high as Nick pumps faster and faster, a mixture between the anger Nick started with and the thrill that has now overridden it fueling Nick as he goes.

Rafael tries to push himself up with the base of his palm sliding at the covers, but Nick is pushing so hard he feels Nick’s balls throb against the rim of his hole. Rafael scrambles to move his hip up because he feels _so good, so good_ right now that he wants Nick to feel the same.

He feels as Nick slams his body into his, Nick’s hips pumping into his entire rear. He feels like he’s being rammed; the angles of Nick’s body jutting against his, and each thrust is coming so fast. Rafael clenches his jaw and lets a few rough, hitched moans escape - _how is Nick still lasting?_

Rafael pushes his hip up, knowing the pain will be blinding but does it anyway, for Nick, for his lover. In reward, he receives a “ _Rafi_ ” in a tone so deep, so lustful that Rafael doesn’t know if the sound being forced raw from his throat is a cry or a laugh. Nick’s grip moves up to his waist, both palms grabbing him from the top and holding him close, Nick’s thrusts messily desperate, quick and deep and all over the place. Nick is full inside him, and Rafael thinks he’ll burst if he goes any further. Nick fucks him as recklessly and fervently as he treats everything else, from perps to his job to things as trivial as heckling sports teams from his own couch, and Rafael lets him. 

Nick throbs inside him, and Rafael know Nick, knows his pace and the way Nick feels inside of him enough to tell that Nick’s about to come. His shoves are greedy, keen, and unpaced, and Rafael know’s he climaxing. He braces himself for the warmth of semen and the burn of Nick’s last thrusts.

“ _Voy a - voy a, Rafi,_ I’m going to -”

Rafael presses the side of a fist against the hard springs of the mattress, and, collecting all the strength he has left, pushes himself up as far as he can go. He doesn’t think he has much control over himself left, but he squeezes himself together and wills for his hole to clench; he knows Nick likes that. Nick revels in it it sloppily, his words suspending briefly before a soft, gentle moan of pure, unadulterated release penetrates the air, and Rafael thinks, _oh God, this is what I live for._

The release is a relief, of both tonight and a drain for all the emotions they harbor because of the nature of their job. Nick makes a note to empty himself in Rafael, his warm hands grasping at Rafael's thigh. Rafael feels himself filled up to the brim with Nick until he sees stars, his vision swimming as Nick pushes once, twice more, the rough skin before his balls rubbing against Rafael's hole, and Rafael muffles his long whimper to hear Nick's gasps. He relishes it, relishes every second of it despite the pain, and he relishes the first few seconds after _delirium_ as his heart stills, the blood catching up and rushing up to his head. He syncs his rough breathing with Nick's low pants. Nick's hands move aimlessly closer to Rafael's own cock, hands weaker with the release, and Rafael realizes he is half hard himself.

They breathe for a while, then stumble to an embrace. Nick doesn’t pull out, and instead pulls Rafael close to himself, both positioned awkwardly on the bed but comfortably together. They lie together amid the mess, Nick’s cheek buried at the base of Rafael’s neck, hands lodged comfortably over Rafael’s arm, across to hold Rafael’s entire body. Nick’s arm is across his torso like a seatbelt, and his utter exhaustion is battling away the urge to make a quip about the possessive way Nick is holding him. But he supposes there is some truth in there: He is Nick’s. He is painfully, helplessly, and unconditionally Nick’s, and he knows Nick will be his when he needs Nick to be.

They lie in bed together, and the chilly air clings onto their warm skin, drying the beads of sweat along their foreheads, shoulders, and backs. Nick is still inside of him, but it feels like he belongs there.

They lay for what seems like forever before Rafael feels the first line of goosebumps along his hips, the cold air grazing through him.

“The game is probably over,” Rafael mumbles into the sheets. He shifts, and Nick slips out reluctantly. Rafael turns his whole body around to face the dark skin of his lover’s chiseled jaw, pressing a long but tender kiss onto his lips.

“Bet you we lost to the Blue Jays,” Nick chuckles back, his angled grin posing more familiar than the firm glare of red face, clenched jaw. Rafael kisses him again.

“Yeah? What do we bet on?”

“Well,” Nick moves up, elbow against the pillow, his head shifting downward to Rafael’s open lap. “For one, I can return the favor.”

An exchange of smiles, and Rafael finds his fingers under Nick’s gelled hair, brushing at where brown curls meet his forehead, Nick’s warm chest pressed against himself, and it’s everywhere he wishes to be.


End file.
